Flirting With Disaster
by Julia456
Summary: Josh and Kat... dating! Huh? My, my, my.
1. Perspective, part 1

Note: The little quote things at the beginning of each part (and _someday_ I'm going to write a fic without them, I swear I am) all came from songs by Yes, because I got a Yes CD for my birthday, and there's nothing like a CD with a bunch of nine-minute songs. The songs are, in order, "Time and a Word," "Leave It," and "Going for the One." 

Now, story notes: For the end of this part, I've borrowed some imagery and paraphased some dialogue from the conclusion of the _JAG_ episode "Embassy." Truly a lovely episode, that. I have also stolen ZNN (it pops up later) from _JAG_. Why make up a whole 'nother fake new channel when I have one right there for me?

Edit Note 11/29/06: After rereading this (and pondering the excellent points made in Clorinda's review), I decided to fix some stuff, mostly in the later chapters. Hopefully the story is stronger as a result.

* * *

_When you get things in perspective  
Spread the news and help the word go 'round_

* * *

Downtown Del Oro Bay was transformed at sunset: it went from a collection of average, unexceptional buildings and streets to something vaguely glittering and magical. Most of that was due to the dim streetlights, which had been carefully chosen by the city commission for exactly that reason. Anything could be magical in the dark.

The overpriced shops and restaurants that had been enticed into the downtown area did their part, too, in setting ambiance, because ambiance was good for business - and they might've been getting a massive break in rental fees, but money was money. White Christmas lights sparkled in the windows and candles flickered from tables, and because it was summer, people were everywhere.

Some of the people out in the night, though, weren't interested in dinner or shopping. Some of the people were interested in knocking over the downtown branch of the Del Oro Memorial Bank.

The bank was closed, of course, so there were no bystanders to deal with. There were no tellers or managers, either, and the lone security guard didn't have a clue. That was bad, because the first thing the robbers had done was effectively disable the security system.

The six-man team had gotten in, ransacked the vault, loaded their van down with cash, and were on their way out when the guard - accidentally left alone for a moment - managed to hit the one alarm that still functioned.

It wasn't a silent alarm. It was a very loud alarm. And aside from making the bank robbers curse each other, it got the attention of everyone on the street, including a news crew that had been filming a fluff piece on the local nightlife. The news crew was delighted.

Josh McGrath, who had been directly across the street from the bank when the alarm went off, and who had extremely sensitive hearing, was less delighted. "OW! What is that?"

"One of the many pitfalls of having nanoprobes?" This was offered in a characteristically sarcastic manner by Kat Ryan, despite the fact that she was uncharacteristically dressed - namely, she'd traded her jeans and tank top for slacks and a sleeveless blouse. It would have been more bizarre if Josh hadn't been similarly attired.

"Aside from that." Josh rubbed at his ear one last time and answered his own question. "Someone's robbing the bank."

"And they're getting away with it, too," Kat said, frowning. The robbers were frantically trying to get into their van, but were having trouble climbing over all the bags of money. Incredibly, a few of them were hauling out yet more cash. "The cops won't be here for minutes!"

Left unspoken was, "so it's up to us," but he was thinking the same thing. Playing superhero was almost as much fun as playing spy. "You take the driver?"

The bank robbers were still trying to get into the van. On a scale of ineptness, they were somewhere below Vitriol. Josh didn't think it would even take his Max powers to handle them.

She was already running across the street. "Sounds like a plan!"

After saving the world - or at least significant portions thereof - six half-baked crooks, as anticipated, weren't much of a challenge. Josh took out the three robbers at the rear of the van, and Kat got not only the driver, but also the remaining two. It was over in under a minute, and Josh wasn't even breathing hard. But his brand-new shirt had a tear down one side, which was irritating.

He walked around the van to make sure that there were no surprises. There weren't, but he became aware of cheers and applause from the bystanders. Holding steady at a safe distance, the news crew looked like it was going to collectively collapse from ecstasy.

Josh gave them a half-hearted wave and a mostly sheepish smile; he wasn't used to pulling that kind of stunt in his public identity. He was even less used to talking to the cops, but there were sirens wailing a few blocks away, and with all of the witnesses, they'd need to stick around to give a statement.

"Well, this shirt is trashed," he said by way of checking on Kat. She was sitting on one of the stray bags of money, looking bored. One of the crooks was moaning at her feet.

"It was ugly anyway," she said, with just the faintest hint of a grin.

He snorted and leaned up against the van, waiting for the cops. The news crew had just started to sidle closer when the police arrived and sent them scurrying away once again. Josh and Kat duly gave their statement, explaining how they'd come to be in the area, what they'd seen, and what they'd done. In return, they were given a stern warning to not do anything like it again. They were also given a rather begrudging acknowledgement of gratitude.

When the time came for them to leave, Kat got up reluctantly, and stumbled a bit as she did. Josh automatically stuck an arm out to catch her, surprised to find that she actually seemed to need the support. "You okay?"

"Terrific. But no more fighting crime in heels." She took a step and winced. "Oh, yeah, I am so

He checked; it was the ankle she'd fractured some months before. "Kat. Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I'm stoic like that?" she said, tongue-in-cheek, but when he went to pull his arm away, she made an immediate noise of protest.

He gave her a dark look, then started down the sidewalk. She came with him, of course, limping along. The car wasn't too far off - just at the end of the block. It'd take a few minutes, and they'd have to walk right past the news crew, but it was doable. "Whatever. We're going to the hospital."

Somewhat breathless, she said, "By the way, I'm having a wonderful evening."

"Just par for the course. We should go out more often," he said lightly, in a good mood despite everything. And, walking towards the car, focusing on keeping as much weight off of Kat's ankle as possible, Josh entirely missed the fact that the news camera was fixed on their backs.


	2. Perspective, part 2

_When you get things in perspective  
Spread the news and help the word go 'round_

* * *

One trip to the emergency room and one bandaged ankle later, Kat settled into the living room couch, propped her damaged foot on a pillow on the coffee table, and promptly began abusing her status as Sick and Injured. 

"The doctor said I wasn't supposed to walk on it," she whined, as the conclusion to a plea that Josh fetch the remote for her. The remote was barely out of her arm's reach, _and_ he was already sitting down.

But he grabbed it and threw it at her, saying, "You know, for someone who's supposed to be a tough, independent chick, you play damsel-in-distress a lot."

"No, I exploit my resources. That would be you and Berto. You and Berto are suckers. Suckers fall for the damsel-in-distress routine. Therefore, I play it." Remote in hand, she gave him an overly helpless look, complete with batted eyelashes. The whining was back. "I need something to drink."

He folded his arms across his chest and refused to move. "Like I'm going to help you _now_."

"Hate the game, McGrath, not the player." She turned on the TV. "Let's see if we made something other than SportsCenter tonight."

And indeed they had, as the eleven o'clock edition of the local news was leading off with a big, splashy graphic that looked as though it'd come straight from someone's collection of twenty-year-old clip art.

The lead talking head - a man in his forties who hadn't been handsome or talented enough to cut it as an actor - was being oddly upbeat for a bank robbery. "Well, there was some major excitement downtown tonight, wasn't there, Mary?"

His young, perfectly blonde co-anchor smiled a wide and polished smile. "That's right, Bill, and one of our camera crews was there to capture it all."

Footage rolled to the tune of her voiceover. "Earlier tonight, the Del Oro Memorial Bank was the target of an attempted robbery. Amazingly, this shocking theft wasn't stopped by the police, but by two of our city's brave residents who just happened to be on the scene."

Josh watched himself knock a robber unconscious and grinned. The image quality was pretty good, although the camera was jittery. "Berto's gonna be sorry he missed this."

"That _is_ amazing," Bill put in, more condescending than impressed.

Mary nodded enthusiastically. "We've just received conformation from our source inside the police department that the two good samaritans are extreme sports athletes Josh McGrath and Katherine Ryan-"

Kat made a disgusted noise. "That's not my name, you bleached-out moron!"

"It's not?" Josh asked, blinking at her. He'd always assumed Kat was short for something. Kathleen, maybe? She didn't look like a Kathleen - or a Katherine, for that matter.

She shot him a killer glare and said, "Okay, you're losing points now, so stop while you're ahead."

Mary was still chattering. "- is sponsored by local sporting goods manufacturer N-Tek. Not coincidentally, N-Tek's CEO and president, Jefferson Smith - seen here in this file photo - is McGrath's legal guardian."

Josh flung up his hands. "Oh, great, now they're making it sound like nepotism."

Bill's smug expression said that was exactly the intent. "Well, it's a proud day for the whole N-Tek family, I'm sure."

"And what makes this amazing feat of heroism even more memorable, Bill," Mary said, laying a confiding hand on her co-anchor's arm, "is that McGrath and Ryan were on a date at the time."

Bill's response was completely drowned out by twin cries of, "WHAT?!"

"Since WHEN?" Josh added, jumping up to confront the television more directly.

"That was _not_ a date," Kat said. She tried to push herself off the couch, banged her ankle on the corner of the table, and sat back down. "Were _you_ on a date? 'Cause _I_ sure wasn't."

But he wasn't even listening to her. "That's slander," he said, pointing at the TV, which was now showing him standing around and joking with Kat while they waited for the cops. "Or maybe libel. Whatever. We can sue. Dad knows more lawyers-"

Josh froze in mid-thought and mid-sentence.

"What?" Kat asked.

She wasn't apprehensive - just annoyed. Well, that would change fast, he thought. "Dad always watches the eleven o'clock news."

Her eyes widened. "How long will it take?"

He sighed and put a hand over his eyes. "Five, four, three, two..."

The phone rang.

They exchanged a hopeless glance, and then Josh grabbed the phone from its resting place on the desk. "Hello?"

"Is there something you want to tell me, son?"

In all the world, there was nothing so frightening to Josh McGrath as the voice of his father when Jefferson Smith was trying _not_ to be angry. It was a voice that had echoed through his childhood of stupid acts and dangerous stunts. He vividly recalled hearing that voice ask _exactly_ the same question after he rode his bike no-hands on the roof of their house.

Defensively, he said, "Yeah - don't believe everything you see on television."

"So you saw that."

"Oh, we saw that."

"On the local news?"

"Yeah," Josh said warily, wondering where he was going with it.

"It doesn't stop there. Check ZNN."

He took the remote from Kat and flipped channels until he got to the twenty-four-hour headline news channel. The reporter of the moment was talking next to a still image of the robbery footage - but not the actual fight. No, this was a shot of the two of them walking away.

With no small amount of horror, he realized that they were telling the same story as Bill and Mary, only with more speculation and even less basis in reality.

"_Some_one is going to die for this," Kat said, very clearly.

Josh suddenly became aware of his father yelling over the phone and put the thing to his ear again. "I'm here, Dad. Sorry."

"You weren't on a date. I'll accept the statement you made to the contrary as a joke. So why _were_ you there?"

He couldn't take watching the national news media spreading lies about his personal life, so he wandered into the kitchen. "At the DOX, I bet her dinner that she couldn't get a perfect score on the vert ramp. She did."

Still in the living room, Kat prompted, "And -?"

Josh scowled. "_And_ that's only happened once before."

"To -?"

"To Tony Hawk," he said, louder than necessary, which was met with an evil, amused snicker from the living room. "So she said I had to take her to a really _good_ restaurant."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then his father said, "That was a month ago, Josh."

"And we've been running around trying to save the world ever since." There was always _something_. The Del Oro Extreme was once a year, but the villains worked every day.

"Point," his father acknowledged. "What about when you were leaving? You were leaning on each other."

"Because she sprained her ankle! We went straight to the emergency room. You can check the medical records." Josh ran a hand through his hair. "So we can force them to retract this, right? Issue a correction or an apology or something?"

"I'm calling our legal team together right now, and I've already got some of our PR people on hold. A lot of what happens will depend on what _they_ say. This may not have a tidy ending, son. But I have your best interests in mind - yours and Kat's."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Get some sleep," his father said, and added less sympathetically, "And remember that you leave the hero stuff to Max for a reason."

Josh hung up and stalked back into the living room. Somehow, without quite realizing it, he'd gotten the drink Kat had been whining for earlier. He handed it to her ungraciously and dropped down on the couch beside her.

The phone rang.

Josh picked it up and heard, "Hi, I'm a reporter with-"

He hung up. It rang again almost immediately, but this time no one answered it.

"We," he said to Kat, staring bleakly at the TV, "are in a lot of trouble."


	3. Intrigues, part 1

Note: The "company ink" line comes courtesy of the _JAG_ episode "Lifeline." The flower girl is yet another _JAG_ ref, this time to Chloe. Huh - there are a lot of _JAG_ refs in this fic. Weird. You'd think I like the show or something. :)

* * *

_We have the same intrigues  
As a court of kings_

* * *

The beach house had two main attractions: it was more or less on the beach, and it was as cheap as sort-of beachfront property could get in California. The latter had become a very big selling point for Josh when he learned his dad would not be bankrolling that particular purchase. The neighborhood wasn't bad, either, and what did he need a real yard for when the ocean was right there? After Berto had to go looking for housing and Kat declared herself a tenant, paying rent got even easier - if the house itself got noticeably more crowded.

It was home, but with their lives, the kind of home you saw maybe once or twice a month. So the crowding and the tiny lot bothered exactly no one.

Until the morning after the foiled bank heist, when the sun rose on a veritable army of reporters setting up shop on the small front lawn.

"When did they get here?" Josh asked, peering through the blinds. It wasn't the best thing to see when you were still half-asleep. "And how can they all fit?"

"They're invading the neighbors' lots," Berto said around a doughnut. He'd already set up shop in the middle of the living room. The coffee table was now covered with computers and parts of computers. "They started getting here right after I did. One of the tabloids was the first, I think."

"Vultures," Josh muttered. He let the blinds drop and turned back to Berto. "Thanks for cutting things short, bro."

"No problem. I had to wait until 12:01 AM so I'd be there for the big day, but that was it."

Josh threw himself into one of the chairs. "Yeah, but it's your sister's fifteenth birthday. I know you wanted to be there - and your family wants you there."

Berto shrugged, busy eating breakfast and tweaking the connections on a pair of wires. "They understand. Well, they don't, actually, but they kept the comments to a minimum." He mimicked his mother's voice. " 'Roberto, what are you doing? You're so smart - why are you a just a manager?' Like I'm working at McDonald's."

"Sorry, bro."

"If it really bothered me, hermano, I wouldn't be here." Berto put the wires down. "Oh, and they called me in-flight to tell me they'd seen your story on the news."

Josh buried his face in his hands and groaned. "This only gets worse."

"How's Kat?"

"It was just a sprain. The doctors told her to take it easy for a few days and avoid walking on it. And apparently, you and I are such big suckers that she's happy to follow directions." Berto raised an eyebrow.

"Her words, not mine." Josh nodded in the direction of the laptop computer, which had been on nearly as many adventures as the rest of Team Steel combined. It was currently sprouting some unfamiliar wires. "What's up?"

"Oh. I've got it set up so that all incoming phone calls are routed through here first," he said, patting the machine fondly. "Screens out the news media. Which reminds me - Jefferson called about a half-hour ago. He wants to speak to you and Kat as soon as possible."

"It'll be kinda hard to get away with all those reporters camping out on the lawn," Josh said, trying not to sound bitter and failing. With a little nanoprobe effort, he could still see them through the gaps in between the blinds. They looked like a swarm of ants.

"Before or after the half-dozen sheriff's deputies arrive with a judicial restraining order and the lawyers to back it up?"

At that, Josh had to crack a smile. "You or Dad?"

"Him. I'm not that good."

Josh reluctantly stood again and went to wake up Kat, who had spent the night on the floor of the hallway. The beach house had exactly two bedrooms, both of them tiny, and as Kat had not been one of the original tenants, she'd refused to lay claim to either. She usually slept in the van, but that involved more walking than she'd wanted to attempt the night before - that, and the hospital's painkillers had been kicking in.

And she wasn't in a good mood now, even though the swelling in her ankle had gone down and she could walk on it without much difficulty. Josh and Berto wisely stayed out of her path until she had retracted her claws at least partway, which happened when the sheriff's deputies started banishing reporters.

While Josh got the car ready and Berto talked to the lawyers, Kat stood in the open doorway, leaning on the doorframe with her bandaged ankle prominently displayed, and heckled the retreating news crews. One hapless soul dared to talk back and got his metaphorical spine ripped out within seconds.

Having tasted blood, Kat was in a cheerier mood, and the drive to N-Tek's corporate headquarters was almost pleasant. The actual visit went downhill quickly.

"This is all your fault," she told him as they rode the elevator up.

He stared at her in open astonishment. "MY fault? How do you figure that?"

"You made the bet. Your fault." And with that, she pushed past him, shoving open the doors of his father's office and striding in.

He gritted his teeth and followed her.

"Good morning," Jefferson Smith said. "I hope you didn't have any trouble with the paparazzi?"

Kat shook her head. She didn't sit down.

"I hope we'll have less trouble with them from now on," Josh said. He did sit down. No sense standing to hear bad news.

Jefferson made a noncommittal noise which did not reassure anyone. "Before we get into the subject of the day's meeting, I want to make sure about something."

This was going to be bad, but Josh gestured for him to go ahead anyway. "Shoot."

Jefferson fixed them each in turn with a sharp-eyed stare. "You aren't dating. Correct?"

Kat laughed a little and said, "I don't dip my pen in company ink. No offense, boss."

Josh had a slightly different reaction. "Jeez, Dad, I told you that last night! Do you not trust me anymore?"

"I'm not sure," Jefferson said, still in full attack mode. "You have a bad history with this."

Josh felt a weight be simultaneously lifted from and dropped on his soul. "Did Berto tell you?"

Jefferson shook his head. "She did."

Kat, looking from one to the other, opened her mouth and shut it again immediately. But the light of understanding in her eyes was unmistakable.

"Well, fantastic." Josh slouched down in his chair. "So I win the Bad Son and/or Employee of the Year award. Anything else?"

"Just a few things." And so saying, Jefferson slid a newspaper across the table. It was face down.

"What's this?" Josh took the paper as if it was rigged with explosives, and didn't turn it over. The back page looked okay - nothing pertaining to himself or the company. He was afraid to see what was on the front page.

Jefferson leaned back in his chair. " 'USA Today'."

Josh flipped the paper over and flinched.

" 'Extreme love'?" Kat read, giving it a question mark even though the headline didn't have one. "More like extreme gagging. Give me that."

She snatched the paper away from him and he made no move to stop her. Instead he gave his father a thoroughly disillusioned glare. "Our best interests, huh?"

Jefferson was not fazed. "Josh. Let me acquaint you with something called 'the bottom line'."

"I know what that means," he said, being surly because he felt entitled to it. "I passed Economics."

In a suitably indignant voice, Kat started reading from the article: " 'Team Steel has been heating up the extreme sports circuit for months. Now it seems their star athletes are heating things up behind the scenes, too.' Give me a break! This is journalism?"

"For N-Tek, the bottom line has been looking a little unhealthy lately," Jefferson went on, calmly ignoring Kat's outburst. "The PR department is of the opinion that free publicity is the best publicity."

" 'McGrath and Ryan are poised to become the sporting world's answer to Ben and Jen.' Ben and Jen? Kill me now." She waved the paper at Jefferson. "If I burn this, will the fire alarm go off?"

"Yes, so don't," he told her, then shifted back to Josh. "In the past few hours, we've had more media exposure than in the last few months. When people are talking about you two, they're talking about N-Tek. In that article alone - and I was serious when I said not to burn that, Ryan - they mention the company six times."

Josh glanced at Kat, saw she was putting away a lighter, and gave her an exasperated look. She made a face, which he returned.

"America loves a good romance," Jefferson said, apparently oblivious to the negative undercurrent running between the supposed romantics. "And you two have been elected flavor of the month."

Josh couldn't take it. He slammed a fist on the arm of his chair and shouted, "Except it's not real!"

"Are any of these things ever real?" Jefferson countered, raising his eyebrows. "Look, I understand what you're saying. Now understand what I'm saying: N-Tek needs this."

"You want us to fake it," Kat said flatly.

"I want you to not deny it. The media will feed off of itself." He reached out a hand for the newspaper and Kat reluctantly passed it back. Josh noticed that one corner was slightly scorched. "Are we all clear on this issue?"

"I don't know, Dad, it's kind of fuzzy to me," Josh said, still feeling surly.

Jefferson speared him with the kind of killer death glare only a father could give his child. It said volumes and Josh dropped his eyes to the floor, intimidated despite himself. "Now, go out there and put on a happy face for your adoring public."

"We'll try, sir," Kat said, as they both headed for the door with various degrees of enthusiasm. She elbowed Josh sharply in the ribs. "Happy face, McGrath."

The best he could do was mutter a decidedly flat, "Yee-ha."


	4. Intrigues, part 2

_We have the same intrigues  
As a court of kings_

* * *

A restraining order was all very well and good, but the newspeople staking out Team Steel's residence were professionals. They were prohibited from going within two hundred feet of the property, so they just retreated to two hundred and one feet and resumed their activities. The private N-Tek security guards strolling around made no impression other than defining the boundaries. The reporters, representing a broad array of print and televised services, spilled over into the streets and neighbors' yards, some of who were quite happy to host national crews. 

And there were only so many ways to get into the neighborhood by car.

"Mob" didn't quite capture what happened when Josh and Kat returned, but it was close.

Kat waved cheerfully to all of the cameras, and the flashbulbs nearly blinded Josh, who was having enough trouble getting through the mass of people without hitting anyone - although he was sorely tempted to do just that. Many times.

"Traitor," Josh muttered in her general direction.

"Hey, it's my adoring public. I'm supposed to make them happy." She had the princess wave down pat, he had to admit.

His sarcastic retort died unspoken when he was forced to slam on the brakes to avoid flattening a guy with a microphone - a guy he recognized, as a matter of fact.

"Orrin," he said, surprised and a little disappointed and fairly sorry he had a convertible. "Don't tell me you've joined the paparazzi."

Orrin Carter, a veteran LiveSport correspondent, and who'd been covering Josh's career almost from the beginning, flashed a rueful smile. "Just going where the network sends me. So what's the inside scoop?"

In the time it took Josh to form a response, one of the other reporters yelled out, "Ryan! Who does your hair?" Kat waved. Flashbulbs popped.

"I can neither confirm nor deny anything," Josh said. The reporters were edging a bit too close; his foot twitched on the accelerator. His instincts, trained into a spy's paranoia, were insisting that he get away from the crowd NOW, but he didn't want to be rude to Orrin. Orrin was a nice enough guy, job aside.

"Come on, Josh," Orrin said. "One soundbite and I'm happy."

He launched into his line again. "I can neither-"

But the rest of it was lost when Kat suddenly invaded his side of the car, grabbed his face in one hand, and kissed him soundly. On the mouth. For a split second, before his brain caught up with his body, he kissed her back.

The reporters exploded into a full-out frenzy.

With something approaching panic, Josh pushed Kat away, floored it, and didn't care that he sent a bunch of people scrambling to get out of the car's path.

He parked the car behind the van and jumped out, barely remembering to get the keys out before walking to the door as fast as he could without looking stupid - although it was really too late for that. At the door, he stopped and waited for Kat, also because he didn't want to look stupid, and  
then he slammed it behind her.

Berto was standing in the front hall. "What was _that_ about?"

Kat collapsed against the wall next to the door, laughing hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Josh felt like throwing her back out into the evil public eye. "She _kissed_ me." To Kat, he demanded, "Are you _crazy_?"

She just laughed even harder. "Did you see their _faces_?"

"I don't believe it. You _are_ nuts," he said, gaping at her. "Why are you treating this like some kind of _joke_?"

She straightened and closed the distance between them, shaking her head, still half-laughing. "Let me see if I can break it down for you. A month ago, I did something that no one else but _Tony Hawk_ has ever done - ever! - and I just busted up a bank robbery, and they'd rather talk about who my boyfriend is and where I get my hair done."

Her tone was hardening fast, and all trace of humor was gone from her face. "You get to be a hero, but _I_ get to be an object. So yeah, I am treating this like a joke, because if I didn't, all those people out there and _some_ of the ones in here would be suing for assault and battery!"

She emphasized the last part by shoving him, hard, towards the wall, and then stormed off to the rear of the house. A door slammed.

A great and nameless feeling of frustration, anger, and a dozen other emotions rose up in Josh's chest. He kicked at the couch, just because he needed to do some kind of violence, and dropped himself onto it. "Great, I can't even keep my _fake_ relationships from falling apart!"

Berto coughed. "Uh... while you were out, you got some phone calls."

Josh leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. If only the media knew how far off they were. _Dating_ Kat? He wanted to _kill_ her. Or maybe just himself, for making the bet that started the whole thing. "Let's hear 'em."

"Jo called. She wants to know if she can be a flower girl at the wedding."

"No, but she can hold a wreath at the funeral."

"Yours or Kat's?"

"Haven't decided. What else?"

"Pete called. He wants to know if he can start giving interviews."

Josh hadn't heard from Pete in months. Calls to the Costa residence had resulted in answering machine messages that no one ever returned. But throw fifteen seconds of stolen fame into the ring, and Pete was his best friend again. "Figures."

"He promises not to mention Max," Berto added.

"Okay, that just sealed it. No, and get Dad to slap a restraining order on _him_."

"Harsh. But understandable."

"That's what I was going for." He raised his voice to a shout. "Kat, I'm sorry!"

"I don't care!" she shouted back. Another door slammed and ruined his theory that apologizing, regardless of whose fault it actually was, would get him out of trouble with people of the opposite gender.

"Looks like the honeymoon's over," Berto said, having entirely too much fun.

Josh blindly threw a pillow at him. "Go join the vultures outside."

"Hey, this could be worse."

Josh opened his eyes long enough to give Berto an utterly incredulous look.

"Well - you _could_ be romantically linked to someone else."

"Like who?"

"Like... Dread."

It took Josh a moment to find the words: "That's _sick_."

Berto sat back with a smug look. "See? There's your silver lining."

"Gee, thanks, Pollyanna."

There was a small stretch of silence, and then Berto asked, "You know that kiss is going to be all over the world by lunchtime, right?"

Josh wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find that this was all a hideous nightmare, possibly brought on by too much pizza with jalapenos. Instead he sighed and said, "Give me Psycho any day."

Kat shouted, "You deserve him!"

"I've decided," Josh told Berto. "Kat's funeral."


	5. Truth, part 1

_And should you really chase so hard  
The truth of sport plays rings around you

* * *

_

The media didn't go away. They were there, lurking just out of enforceable distance, when Josh went to sleep that night, and they were there when he woke up. And all of them, every last blessed one of them, had sent their network, their paper, their tabloid, their magazine, their radio station, their news website, or their personal friends a giant, screaming, all-points-bulletin about the very public kiss.

The best thing Team Steel could collectively find to say about them was that the more serious journalists had departed once they got their story, leaving just the true paparazzi and other desperate types behind. Mary from the local news was still hanging around.

Kat was not remorseful. "It was a stupid impulse decision, and it won't matter in a month anyway," was all she had to say on the subject when Josh confronted her the day after. Which was probably true, but it didn't stop him from wanting to break the TV when he turned it on and saw himself on every channel. Berto braved the mob and came back with food, water, and a half- dozen print items buzzing about the supposed new celebrity romance.

"No one even cares that we stopped a bank robbery," Josh pointed out in between wadding up newspapers and handing them to Kat to burn. "Which should be newsworthy all by itself, you know? And of course, they talk about it, but it's not the big focus."

"Do you really want it to be?" Berto asked, getting two incredulous stares in return. He defended himself quickly with, "If everyone's talking about how amazing it is that two athletes with no apparent training in law enforcement took down six hardened criminals... that could raise a lot of bad questions."

"In other words," Kat said, "better some garbage about our love lives than a investigation of N- Tek. I'll buy that."

Josh nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, you're right. But I thought this country was supposed to worship everyday heroes."

Kat threw a match into the trash can, which erupted in a nice fireball. "Not as much as they love a good romance, I guess."

On the third full day of the media siege, just as things were approaching terminal boredom for the more active members of Team Steel, Vitriol showed up in San Francisco and took an office building hostage. Jefferson deemed the crisis to be severe enough for some drastic measures and sent Hawk - in stealth mode - to pick up Josh, who had the dual disguise of being Max and being in stealth as well. Thirty minutes later, Vitriol was left for the cops to find, and Josh was back home with no one the wiser. And, despite the fatigue of a depleted transphasic energy level, in a fantastic mood.

Piloting Hawk was a very rare privilege indeed these days, and the chance to get out there and do stuff - not just react to events beyond his control - was exhilarating.

"I'm back," he called out, walking in from the mostly-sand backyard. "Man, you picked a bad time to leave the biolink, bro - Vitriol had a bunch of CEOs in this room, right, and..."

He trailed off as he came into the living room and saw Kat balancing in a one-handed handstand on top of the coffee table. Berto was timing her with a stopwatch. The biolink monitor was sitting unwatched behind them.

Josh raised an eyebrow. "I guess this answers the question of 'what'd you guys do while I was gone'."

Kat flawlessly dismounted, landing with a little flourish. "Beats watching TV."

"Next time take her with you," Berto said, putting down the stopwatch and setting up the portable transphasic generator. "One bored adrenaline junkie is just as bad as two."

"I'm not an adrenaline junkie," Kat said, trying to sound offended and failing. "I'm action-oriented."

"Same difference." Josh plugged into the generator and settled down to wait. Recharging wasn't his favorite part of any mission, but it was always nice to know he'd made it back in enough shape to do the boring stuff.

"So Vitriol had a roomful of CEOs?" Berto prompted.

"Yeah. He had them right behind all the doors and windows, but he forgot about the air vents, so I -"

The computer - still acting as a de facto phone service - beeped. "Hold that thought again. Phone call from..." Berto squinted at the monitor. "That's weird. It's from Guam."

Halfway to the phone, Josh paused. "Guam."

Berto's squint had deepened into a full frown of puzzlement. "Not quite. Offshore."

Curious, Josh picked up the phone. The line was full of static - a harsh, clicking noise that cut in and out every few seconds in an irregular pattern. A voice said, "Hello? Is Josh there?"

"Speaking."

"Oh. Oh! Sorry. This connection is pretty terrible." There was a pause that the static did its best to fill. "Josh? This is Laura."

Once upon a time, he'd thought that he would spend the rest of his life with her. Her voice in all its nuances - even over a static-filled line from half a world away - was burned into his memory. It was probably the most insulting thing she could have said. "I know."

"Oh. Um... it's been a long time, hasn't it?"

A strange sense of detachment settled over him. "Almost two years."

One year at sea had turned into two, but the only reason he knew that was an offhand comment from Pete. Laura Chen had found her place, it seemed. It just wasn't anywhere near Josh or Del Oro Bay.

"I guess it's hard to wait when all your female coworkers are right there," she said, and the words had an acid bite to them that she rarely used. But almost immediately came a genuinely regretful, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I don't - I'm not trying to be the bitter ex-girlfriend."

Ex-girlfriend. The prefix did not go unnoticed.

When he didn't respond, she continued. "Well, anyway, about... everything. I just thought I'd call to see if it's true."

He heard himself saying, "How wrong do you think the international news media could be?"

She gave a short, hiccuping kind of laugh. "Yeah, I guess not. So... what's she like?"

He wanted to ask, "Do you really want to know?" but instead came up with, "A lot like you."

"Oh." More static. "I miss you."

"Thanks for calling," he said, and hung up.

Berto and Kat were looking at him with carefully blank expressions.

"That was Laura." He put the phone down on the coffee table. The detached feeling hadn't left. "It's official, I guess. She called herself my ex-girlfriend."

"You... wanna talk about it?" Berto asked cautiously.

He shook his head. "Not really."

Kat was giving him a narrow-eyed, evaluative stare. "You gonna be okay?"

He took a deep breath. He wasn't dead. Facing the facts hadn't killed him. It felt better, in fact, as though a fog had been lifted from his mind and heart. "Yeah, actually, I think I am."

She nodded decisively. "Then unplug and get your gear. I've got to do something before I go completely nuts. Cameras or not, we're going to train."

They made the evening news again.


	6. Truth, part 2

Note: The end of this part has been borrowed (more or less) from an episode of _Wings_. I don't remember the name of the episode, but it was great.

* * *

_And should you really chase so hard  
The truth of sport plays rings around you_

* * *

Josh spent most of day five asleep. There wasn't much reason to be awake if the media was going to keep them pinned inside; and since day four had included a decidedly ill-fated public trip out of the house, he wasn't anxious to repeat the experience. 

When he finally did get up - some time after noon - no one else from Team Steel was there, so he made some food, went back to his room, and hung out for another few hours. He had a stack of novels that his dad had given him but he'd never gotten around to; reading was just kind of... boring, compared to being outside and doing stuff. He'd done more reading in the last five days than he had in a year.

He wandered back out for dinner and found Berto sitting on the floor of the living room with a half-eaten pizza and a box of electrician's tools next to him.

"What's getting autopsied?"

"Nothing. I'm building." Berto gestured at the mess of circuitboards and assorted hardware strewn around the room. "We need another transphasic generator."

What they needed was the original generator back at N-Tek, but it was still shattered and off- limits. A second portable one was cool, too. "A backup?"

"Yup. At this rate, and considering that I have to fabricate a lot of the parts on my own, I should be finished... before the sun dies."

"What's that - five billion years?" At Berto's nod, he snorted. "So about when the media decides we're not interesting."

Berto made a general noise of assent.

"I am getting so sick of this. Not just because of Laura." He was over that, mostly. It'd been a long time in coming, which helped. "This is _not_ how I want to get famous."

Berto stopped what he was doing and straightened, no longer just talking. Now he was making a point. "_You_ haven't been keeping an eye on the media coverage. I have. And Kat's right. They talk about you the same way they always did, but they're treating her like an object. One of the entertainment shows went around asking famous people what they thought of her, and you know what? The biggest question was where else she was pierced."

Josh frowned in vague puzzlement. It was a stupid debate. He'd known the answer to that two days after the sports version of Team Steel began. "Just her ears. Anywhere else is too hard to keep clean and could get torn out in a fight."

"See, you and I know that, but it doesn't matter to them. They just want to hear themselves talk." Berto paused. "Anyway. Ignoring all that - Kat's a seriously private person. This is probably her worst nightmare."

"She didn't seem all that upset when the sports coverage started."

"But that's about what she can _do_, not her personally."

"Huh." Josh thought about that for a minute. "You'd make a good shrink, bro, you know that?"

Berto adjusted his glasses with no small amount of satisfaction. "A team manager wears many hats."

Josh smirked at that, then sobered. "Only problem is, it's not going to go away anytime soon."

"_Actually_..." Berto let the word hang until he'd gotten Josh's attention. "I called a press conference today and told everyone the truth: that it was a misunderstanding, it got blown out of proportion, and the kiss was a joke. A bad joke, but a joke. And that they all needed to shut up and go home."

Josh immediately looked through the blinds. Sure enough, the cameras and their holders were all gone - although there was a nondescript black car parked across the street that looked like it probably had some observers inside. Couldn't get rid of everyone, he guessed. "You did that? Even after what my dad said?"

"You and Kat are my best friends," Berto said, dead serious, and then grinned. "That's one of my hats. But no - I talked to Jefferson, and he agreed that it was getting out of hand."

Pondering the miraculous existence of a world where he wasn't the constant focus of invasive media gossip, Josh missed what Berto was saying. "Huh?"

"Kat wanted to talk to you. I think she went outside."

"Uh-oh," Josh said, because there weren't a lot of happy topics to talk about. "Mood check?"

Berto returned to work. "She knows about the conference, so she's okay. No sign of fangs or claws."

Josh stood for a moment, thinking - dinner now or later? - and then went looking for Kat.

He found her standing on the sorry excuse for a porch behind the house, leaning against one of the rough wood columns that supported the roof. "What's up?"

"Oh, not much," she said, not bothering to look at him. "Watching the sunset, taking in the air, wondering if there's any paparazzi with telephoto lenses hiding in the trees..."

He did a quick scan and came up with nothing. "None in my range."

"Good." She turned around, still leaning on the column, and crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, I hate myself for this, but aren't you starting to wonder?"

"Wonder... what?" He took up a spot across from her, back against the adobe exterior wall of the house. It was still warm from the heat of the day.

She nodded over her shoulder at the world in general. "All those people think we're dating. They're looking at old film and saying, _'See, they've been together for a long time, look how they act around each other.'_ Why?"

He scuffed at the porch with one shoe. "Aside from the fact that you kissed me in public? Because they're morons with nothing better to do than invent fairy-tale romances."

"But _everyone_ is saying it. Even your dad was looking at us funny the other day."

"Yeah, he was," he admitted, and kicked the porch some more. "So what? They're right? We're soulmates and don't know it? No one's _that_ stupid."

"True. And if you were my soulmate, I'd make like Faust." But it was said with a grin.

He feigned a chest wound. "Ouch. I think I'm bleeding."

"Life's hard," she said, then, teasing fading, looked down at her feet for a second. "So we're back to normal?"

"As normal as things get around here," he said. Which wasn't very, but the status quo would be welcomed after all of this mess.

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then the devil's glint appeared in her eyes again, and she said, "Good, 'cause you're a lousy kisser."

He straightened, instantly offended. "_What?_ I am not."

She shook her head in exaggerated woe. "It's all about technique. And you don't have any."

"That is such-" he started, then cut himself off and started over. "Look, you caught me off-guard." She made a highly skeptical noise, and that was about all he could stand, so he said, "I can prove it."

One of her eyebrows hiked up. "Then let's see it."

He blinked. "What, right now?"

She took a few steps closer, loose and ready to move, as if she'd asked him to spar instead of kiss her. "Not enough time to prepare?"

He glared at her, but he'd backed himself into a corner, and they both knew it. There were only two ways out, and only one of those would allow him to keep any kind of bragging rights. It crossed his mind that this was veering uncomfortably close to what they'd spent the last few days denying outright, but he pushed that aside. "Are you asking for yourself?"

"Nice recovery. So come on," she said, prodding his collarbone. "Put up or shut up."

"_Fine_." And he kissed her. A good, hard, open-mouthed kiss, the kind he used to give Laura when they were still together, except Laura had never pulled back with an exclamation of disdain.

"No, no, no," Kat said, repositioning the both of them. "No technique at all. Or maybe I should say, too much technique. You're overthinking. Just close your eyes and _feel_ it."

He gave her a long-suffering look laced with scorn. "What is this - expert advice?"

"I'm a tough, independent chick, remember, and yes it is. All of the poor, foolish girls you date in the future will thank me. Try again."

"Jeez, yes ma'am."

The second attempt went much better, if "much better" was taken to mean that no one pulled away for quite a long while and in fact moved even closer, and that there was some significant tangling of body parts.

If there had been any paparazzi skulking around, they would have gotten enough photos to keep the story in the tabloids for months longer than it was already destined to be. As it was, the only witnesses were a few seagulls, and they were, frankly, more interested in fighting over abandoned hamburger wrappers on the beach.

Once again, Kat broke away first. There was a long, silent moment when neither of them said anything - just stared.

Then she sighed and said, "Well, I tried. You're just bad at it." She gave his shoulder a decidedly platonic pat and added, "Sorry," as she walked past him.

With some difficulty, Josh found his voice and said, "Wait, uh, can't you - you know - tutor me?"

She snorted and shook her head. "It's my night to make dinner. Get your vote in now - leftover pizza or leftover Thai?"

"No, seriously, Kat," he started again, but she waved him off and kept going. He hesitated for a moment, and then, turning his back on the sunset, the seagulls, and the fact that he was about to make a liar out of himself, he followed her inside. "Kat -?"

END


End file.
